


Further Complications

by stelesandwands



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, M/M, lumberjack!derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 15:09:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2114538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelesandwands/pseuds/stelesandwands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for tumblr prompt: lives alone in the woods by a waterfall and finds a confused lost person walking around AU</p>
<p>derek is an honest to god woodsman and stupid city people (who could they possibly be I wonder) are tromping around the forest so he needs to help them not get lost and die.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Further Complications

**Author's Note:**

> ok so in this fic, just for the sake of it, all of the hales can turn into wolves. they also have beta forms, but i'm claiming artistic license here ok.

Derek’s in the middle of chopping the goddam oak tree that fell down last week, the one that Cora had _told_ him would fall anytime soon, and he should definitely consider chopping it to direct the fall. Being the idiot he is (not that he’d ever admit it to _any_ of those devil-spawn), he’d ignored her, favouring lying on their picnic blanket with the wind making the leaves shuffle and the light play across his face. Plus, the oak wasn’t _young_ , not- he supposed- that that had much importance. Cora had said something about diseased roots? The point is, it fell. So now, Derek, being used to these sort of things, was hacking off the admittedly poor looking roots, and leaving them in the sun to dry. He’d looked it up- because _yes,_ Cora, he _can_ use the goddam Internet- and apparently it was still viable firewood. The rest would go to the sole remaining artisan carpenter in Beacon Hills, which would bring him a pretty penny.

 

He’s getting frustratingly hot, despite the relative coolness of the air, so he throws his checkered shirt next to the stereo, currently silent, because he hasn’t gotten around to getting an extension cord. There’s sweat getting in his eyes, and it’s stinging because despite what everyone might think, he _does_ wear sunscreen, it’s not his fault everyone here is pale. He puts the ax down, leaning it against the impressive trunk. Swiftly tossing his bottle up, he gulps down some water before going to lie in the shade. The grass there is cold, the sun not having touched it all day, the morning’s dew is still there, soaking through the white tank top. He’s decidedly ignored all of Cora’s comments asking if he’s sure he doesn’t have a second, slightly more controversial job involving that top.

 

A trickle of wind breezes through, and although Derek can’t say he doesn’t enjoy what it does to his sticky hair, ignoring the smell of ‘person’ drifting along lightly with it. It’s getting stronger, but one measly human is not going to take down Derek Hale. Said Derek sighs, pondering whether he’s been spending too much time around Laura raving about Hale power, dignity, honor etc.

 

The smell’s getting stronger, but he doesn’t really care. Not until he can hear his heartbeat over the sound of rushing water, and his exasperated voice.

 

“Scott! Where the fuck are you, man?” Derek deduces it’s someone young-ish. He can’t smell anything past the sweetness of grass and his own -possibly embarrassingly- strong sweat smell.

 

“No. Lis- Listen! Scott, dude, I love you, you know that- and of course I fully support you wanting to become a park ranger. Ye-“ there’s a pause. “ _Yet_ , asking me to come out here, telling me where to go -very vaguely by the way- and then not being there, is not great best friend material. I’m glad you’re a goddam Boy Scout Captain. I’m glad you’re taking a degree in all this outdoorsy stuff, but I am _not_. I have no idea where the fuck I am, I’m taking _criminology_ okay?” the sound of scrunching of decades of leaves under his feet is heard, “So if you don’t find me soon, I’m pretty sure a mountain lion is going to come eat- Jesus Christ!”

 

Derek’s eyes snap open, shooting a glance at the still form. It’s some lanky, brown-haired kid, who looks like he just got over being annoyed and suddenly is very interested. He’s standing in the shade, phone held slightly away from his ear while his friend- Scott- talks frantically. Derek stands up, eyes unflinchingly looking -“Staring” mutters Cora somewhere in the recesses of his mind, which, wow that was disturbing- at the kid.

 

“I- uh- Scott, just a sec- I’m staying on the line! Goddammit!” The kid hand drops away from his temple, other one pulling at the front of his hair, approaching slowly, “Hey. So I’m Sti-. I’m lost. You’re probably the worst person to ask for this, because we are very clearly alone, so I’ll say this, I have a taser.” His heart skips a beat. Lie. Not that it matters anyway, and Derek’s offended… Maybe he _should_ shave. “I just- do you know where the waterfall is? It’s supposedly not very big, but…” the rest of his babbling sort of drifts off, although Derek is still absent-mindedly listening. It’s more that he’s finally gotten a good look at the guy, since he’s finally moved out from the shade into the clearing. He has a pair of brown eyes, which in this sunlight, squinting, are the color of a fawn’s pelt. The hair is all messy, from being tugged at, which seems to be a habit, because he’s still doing it. Derek’s first appraisal had been wrong, he wasn’t lanky. He had surprisingly broad shoulders, and the plaid shirt pushed up past the elbows revealed strong forearms. The noise stopped, so Derek stopped trying to discern Sty’s (what on earth is Sty short for?) ass in those snug jeans.

 

“The waterfall is upstream,” he says, quirking an eyebrow, because really? Then again, Sty is clearly a city kid, if Beacon Hills can be afforded that title.

 

“Uh.” Sty’s mouth is open just a little bit, and his eyes are back to a normal size, which makes Derek have a newfound appreciation for the lips he’d been chewing on the whole four seconds Derek was speaking. “Right. Okay. And the river would be…?”

 

It’s hard to resist rolling his eyes, so Derek makes do with a withering look, ‘Eyebrows of Doom’ in full force. Damn Cora and her incessant chatter about Derek’s faul- _quirks_. “That’s the moving water you saw thirty seconds ago before you walked here,” it’s Sty’s turn to to look pissed.

 

He stays silent though, heartbeat quickening with anger but mostly, he smells nervous. Derek eases up on the eyebrows. “Go back the way you came, it’ll be on your right. Shout if you can’t find your way.”

 

“Okay. Cool. Thanks…” he looks up questioningly.

 

“Derek.” Sty nods, gives a tight smile, and pulls the phone back to his ear.

 

He turns around, rolling his eyes at the sudden break of chatter from the mic, “Yes, Scott, I’m fine, nice of you to ask for once. Nah,” his voice drops lower, presumably to avoid Derek from hearing, “some random woodsman came to my rescue. Yup, so now we know who to get in case a wolf eats me, and I could swoon appropriately when his manly arms flex to pick-“ There’s laughter from him, possibly at what Scott has said, but Derek doesn’t really care.

 

Sty’s laughter is definitely worth the pain he is; it starts out like a bark, and then smooths out into chuckles that jolt his whole body. His heartbeat, breathing, and eventually his voice all fade away as he walks on. Knowing how fucking dumb city people are, Derek follows him, he morphs into wolf form, which makes him smirk a little (mentally of course), considering Sty’s previous comment. Carrying some clothes in his mouth, he doesn’t follow for any other reason than the stress of having to find him _later_ , when inevitably, he does get lost. Instead, he shuffles bushes, growls a little, herding him in the right direction. The brown-haired ‘adult’ obviously has no tolerance for the outdoors, because despite it being broad daylight, in a sparsely treed area, and Derek _has a_ black _pelt for fuck’s sake_ , he starts at the slightest sound. Which creates the most delightful little catch in his breath, and even though Derek’s pretty sure Sty would do a lot more than just gasp in bed, he would like to get it from him in another way. Which is highly inappropriate, but Sty had just been basically waxing lyrical about his arms, so.

 

They get to the waterfall safely, and Derek lays down, deciding to just listen in case of trouble. Not watching, because that would be far far too close to what Peter used to do when Derek and his siblings were still in high school. So he lies there, resuming his previous activity of simply enjoying being outside in the middle of summer. There’s golden and green light shifting, and even with his eyes closed, he can feel when the branches cast shadows onto his fur. Rolling around, he’s thankful that they molt during the summer, otherwise, there would definitely be no morphing until late fall. The actual process of molting however, was- Derek bolts upright.

 

“Stiles! Shit. Stiles!” So that was his name.

 

Changing back to human form, Derek pulls on his pants and underwear, pausing for a second, before sprinting out of the bushes, pretending to look out of breath. The short, Latino looking kid jumps before asking the werewolf.

 

“Derek?” At the responding nod, Scott turns his attention back to the water. “He hates swimming. He almost drowned as a kid, he can’t get out by himself.”

 

“Call an ambulance,” Scott looks alarmed but nods. “Try to find a long branch to pull us back in.” Nodding, Derek, sheds the jeans, which would’ve definitely restricted movement and scans the -thankfully- narrow river for signs of a bobbing brown head. He’s just about to dive in when he sees him. Stiles is desperately trying to grappling at a rock to prevent falling over the side of the waterfall. The current is generally manageable, but it had rained last night, and the impending chute sped it up alarmingly.

 

Stepping into the river, he understands the panic written all over Stiles’ face. Luckily, he’s gripping tightly to the same boulder, so Derek swims short distances, rock to rock to reach Stiles. The water is cold, and Stiles’ lips are losing their pinkness, going slightly purple. Near the center, the water has eroded the riverbed, and it’s shoulder height, mud making the ground slippery and difficult to keep his ground. Instead, he clutches a nearby boulder, and reaches an arm out to the petrified Stiles. Shaking his head, he says,

 

“I can’t, I’m sorry.” Stiles’ eyes are wide, and he’s definitely shivering, lips going steadily down the spectrum from red to blue.

 

“Stiles, I’m going to put my leg over, and you’re going to walk across it like a bridge. My arm is going to be your handrail. Got it?” Derek says calmly. This isn’t the first time he’s done this, but it’s definitely the first time with someone already so on edge around water. Stiles is still shaking his head, although that might just be the shivering, Derek can’t decide which is worse. Lowering his voice, Derek looks at Stiles straight in the eyes, “Stiles. You can trust me. We can’t stay here much longer, it won’t end well. Scott is calling an ambulance. You’ll be safe, I promise.”

 

Stiles nods, and Derek quickly reaches across the distance, settling his foot to bridge the gap between the two boulders. He stays straight, not leaning forward to offer his arm, for fear of losing his balance. Sliding his left foot along Derek’s bare leg, Stiles’ hand scrabbles at the werewolf’s. Derek takes a hold on the sleeve of Stiles’ long shirt, and eases him toward himself. There’s a lot of wobbling, but eventually, he makes it, gasping and shuddering. Clutching him to his side like a girl in an action movie, Derek places all four limbs back on the rock. He’s considering telling Stiles to take off the long sleeved shirt, but instead, safe from the current in this nook of the boulder, tells him to button it. He’ll have better grip on the brunet this way, but with the buttons done, there will be less drag through the water. The ratty shoes have to come off though. Derek does his best to throw them on the bank, so Stiles isn’t left in wet socks, but doesn’t actually notice where they land.

 

Derek turns to really look at Stiles, whose heartbeat has slowed down a touch, but not really. His pupils are enormous, and his breathing is shallow, rapid.

 

“That was the strongest part of the current, and the nearest to the edge. I’m going to walk now. You can either hang on my back, or walk in front of me. We’ll go slowly.”

 

Stiles nods, “Your back. I’ll freeze if I’m walking.”

 

Derek hangs low on the rock, letting Stiles settle, hold onto him like a koala, legs around his waist. They made slow progress, Derek being sure to not go too fast, preventing any further anxiety attacks. Scott held out a long branch, but not incredibly so, which was smart of him. Too long, and he wouldn’t have been able to safely pull them in. Once they reach the piece of wood though, the short man steadily pulls them in, Stiles with a death grip around Derek’s neck the whole time. When they reach the riverbank, Derek plants his feet on the ground, allowing Stiles to climb onto his shoulder, up onto the grass. Derek soon follows, ignoring Scott’s attempt at helping to pull him up. He immediately shakes off, and walks off. There’s a couple of startled cries, and Scott starts to go after him, before remembering his friend’s condition.

 

Derek returns quickly from the house, holding the most easily found blanket- the one on his bed- and all the clean towels in the bathroom. All of three towels. Tossing the towels to Scott, he waits for Stiles to be stripped down to his underwear, which consists of just boxers, thank God. Loose clothing dries faster. Realising that the house might actually be better for taking care of someone in possible shock, he tells Scott so, before informing Stiles that he’ll be brought to the house.

 

Protesting, Stiles attempts to stand. He’s barely squatting before he comes dangerously close to falling. Derek swoops him up into his arms, Stiles struggling, ‘there’s been enough manhandling!’ before giving in. Derek, as always, is warm, and this warmth must be seeping through the layers of towels currently cocooning the cold body, because Stiles wriggles closer. His eyes are starting to droop, and suddenly Derek remembers Health in 8th grade. Concussion. Who knows if Stiles hit his head, being jostled by the current?

 

“Stay awake.” Stiles’ eyes snap back open, deciding to fix themselves on the canopy above, which means his throat is left exposed. _Dammit_. The guy could’ve seriously hurt himself, and here was Derek, being a little perv. A sly voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Cora, pointed out that the current damsel-in-distress might be looking at the canopy _now_ , but _he_ hadn’t had any qualms in mentally removing the last article of clothing retaining Derek’s decency while lying on the ground.

 

Derek kicks open his door, and the brown haired person in his arms muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, ‘my knight in shining armour, carrying me across the threshold’. Which did _not_ make Derek blush. At all. He made the executive decision that a cushy bed would not be conducive to staying awake, so he plopped Stiles on the hard, uncomfortable, wooden dinner chair. Grabbing the blanket from an anxious, but relieved looking Scott, he tugged off the now-damp towels and wrapped Stiles snugly in the big blanket. Then relaxed.

 

“Oh. My God.” Stiles was looking very awake, but his attention was directed at Scott, who was now crouching by him. “Oh my God.” His lips, Derek noticed, were notably more reddish than the near pure blue when they’d gotten out of the water. “I don’t even know how it really happened? One minute, we were shoving each other around, and then I was waist deep in cold water, stumbling and then I slammed into that rock.”

 

“Stiles, you’re going to be fine. It took a while to get reception, but I called an ambulance, they’ll be another fifteen minutes, tops, and then we can ride with you to the hospital.” He shot a glance at Derek, to confirm the ‘we’. Derek grunted his assent, currently trying to remember where he kept the other blankets.

 

Stiles was crying. He was hiccupping, hugging Scott at an uncomfortable-looking angle, over the armrest. Gasping, he wiped away the salty-smelling tracks from his face. “I could’ve died. I didn’t, of course- but I could’ve.” Now addressing Derek, “You’re right, I probably do have a concussion. I’m not exactly sure where either of you are standing, seeing as there are two of each of you.” Stiles dithered on until the paramedics arrived, pausing only to try nodding off, to cry, or, once, to have a full fledged panic attacks about what to tell his dad.

 

***

 

When they arrive at the hospital, a woman he takes to be Scott’s mother, Nurse McCall, hustles the injured off, before giving him a brief examination.

 

“You’re fine.” She says with more suspicion than should be present in that statement. “You spent, according to my son, about twenty minutes in -absolute tops- sixty degree water. I understand Stiles spent at least half an hour in there, but you should not be this alright.”

 

“I live in the woods, sometimes, when the weather is good, I go swimming in that river. Obviously in tamer parts of it, but I’m used to it. My immune system is just more… robust.”

 

Nurse McCall does not look convinced, but she lets it go, in favour of, “Derek? Thank you. Thank you so much. I don’t know what we would’ve done if…” she shakes her head. “Thank you.” Derek is doing his best not to look uncomfortable, but she’s giving him a look so reminiscent of Mom, that Derek has the sudden thought that they should _never_ meet. Speaking of. “You need to contact a relative, to let them know what happened, just in case there _are_ complications.”

 

The interminable ringing ends, “Laura?”

 

“Derbear! You remember me! I was so worried.” Laura exclaimed like the shit she was.

 

“Very funny. I’m at the hospital. Nothing wrong with me, don’t worry.”

 

“Nurse around?” at his assent she asked, “So, Prince Charming, which Princess was it this time?”

 

“Bambi,” Escapes before he snaps his mouth shut, with an audible click. He prays Nurse McCall hasn’t caught on. “ _Anyways_. Someone got caught in the current near the waterfall, so I went in to help them out.” He purposefully played it down, hoping Laura got the hint, and didn’t go telling Mom that he’d dove in, suicidally reckless, abandoning all sense to save a kitten that was caught in a bramble of thorns in the Mississipi River. “I’m waiting to hear the verdict and in case I _have any further complications_ , he should be fine, but he had a concussion, I don’t know how bad, so I’m waiting.” He finished lamely.

 

Laura just hummed in agreement, “Do you want one of us to come down there to keep you company?” He can practically _hear_ her lashes batting, and Cora snickering, so he doesn’t even try to put up a fight, just sighs and hangs up.

 

***

 

“So apparently you’re the hero of all heroes.” Stiles eyes Derek suspiciously from where he’s standing, officially released, just a couple of hours later. Cora and Laura, after having descended upon the waiting room, and wreaked havoc with _all_ of the present nurses’ sexual orientations, decided to go get coffee a couple of blocks down. _Fortunately_ , they had taken ‘pity on his piteous face’ -their words not his- and had agreed to get him a caramel latte. Which is a guilty pleasure that shall die with him and those two. Although, letting them know the secret, rendered the word obsolete. He sighed, making a mental note to check Cora’s twitter for any posts regarding _certain people’s_ coffee preferences. Shaking his head to clear all those thoughts, his eyes dart up to Stiles’.

 

“Um.”

 

“The only way I can see to thank you, would probably be an intense Xbox session.” His sly smile implied that an Xbox session would _definitely_ not be the only activity occurring. “I didn’t even see a TV at your place, so you need a shot of blaring, obnoxious technology stat. Doctor’s orders.”

 

“Maybe dinner first?” Smirking at the startled expression which quickly smoothed into a similar smile to the one earlier, except this one was clearly hiding excitement. Stiles just nodded, about to say something before the Hale sisters barged in.

 

“Aha! Bambi!” The two deceivingly kind looking women smiled predatorily at both of them, making Stiles gulp.

 

“Hey Cora, I, did not realise you two were related,” turning to Laura his face slackened to disbelief, “You’re telling me,” he said to Derek now. “That you’re whole family is beautiful?”

 

“He’s the unlucky one, sorry,” said Laura.

 

“Somehow, I doubt that,” muttered Stiles.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks as always to the fabulous, the one and only, im_an_idjit bless your heart
> 
> as always please do come bother me on tumblr i'm notdeadallison  
> tell me how my hales were??


End file.
